A Reason to Fight
by Meridas
Summary: Years of peace have passed since the Judgment War. But in keeping with what seems to be Tellius's fate, another war is coming to them - and if defending their world isn't reason enough for everyone to fight together, all of them will fall.
1. A Letter and a Dream

_Author's note: so this will be the longer FE story I sorta promised. Try not to fly into a rage if (when) I don't update regularly (jk). So fyi it's set after the events of Radiant Dawn, several years after Ike and Soren left Tellius. And... the rest we'll figure out as we go along. So, onward bravely into the realm of the longer story. Feel free to review._

**_Disclaimer: _**_stuff you recognize from the games belongs to Nintendo and peeps, not me._

_..._

Micaiah frowned slightly as she read the letter. "Sothe," she began, "could you do something for me?"

He looked up. "Of course."

"I need Edward, Leonardo, and Nolan… he's still here in Nevassa, isn't he? I want to see them all tomorrow, if possible."

"Yeah, they're all here ," Sothe assured her. "Sure, I'll get them together…" he paused. "What for?" He hadn't asked her who the letter was from, but his eyes lingered on it as if he knew that it was the cause for the sudden reunion. Normally Micaiah loved to see their friends, but she didn't summon them to her.

She looked up at him, her eyes a little unfocused as she thought. "Well… I — will you let me explain it later, to all of them?"

"Sure," he nodded. "No problem." As he left, Micaiah sat down at her desk and pulled writing utensils toward her. She worked steadily for several minutes, copying out the summons to Laura and Aran, Fiona of Marado, and Jill and Haar of Talrega. She called a messenger to her and send the boy off with the letters.

Then she sat with her chin in her hand, staring unhappily at the letter she herself had received from King Kurthnaga of Goldoa that morning. Normally she enjoyed Kurth's letters — but not this one. This one was grim yet devoid of real information. Micaiah couldn't understand it.

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. "What's going on?" she whispered to the empty room. She bit her lip. She'd had a dream the night before, a dream carrying the flavor of a vision. Micaiah hadn't heard from Yune in a while: things in Daein and Tellius had been going so well.

She sighed again and opened her eyes. "Something's going to happen, Sothe," she murmured to the familiar presence behind her.

His hand fell on her shoulder, a warm and comforting weight. "Whatever it is," he reminded her, "you're not alone."

She reached up and touched his fingers, nodding slightly. "Good."

...

_PS: horrendously short, I know. Many apologies. Please be willing to accept compensation in the form of longer, cooler chapters at a later date._


	2. The Word on the Wind

_Author's note: also shorter than I would have liked, but I'm getting there, I promise. Hang in there and review once it gets worth it..._

**_Disclaimer: _**_I don't own the Fire Emblem stuff_

...

Sothe couldn't help it — every time he saw that bridge between Daein and Crimea, his hand would stray to the hilt of his knife. He forced the movement to stop, though, as he had every time in the past six years.

Micaiah noticed, though. She leaned her head toward him and murmured, "Are you alright?"

Sothe grasped her hand briefly. "I'm fine," he assured her. "Just bad memories at this place."

She nodded slightly. They all had them after the war — or wars, in cases like Sothe's. Places and people that were almost too painful to be around, because of the memories they dragged to the surface. Sothe fought down the urge to shake his head, to try and throw the blood-soaked memories off like a dog would shake off water.

A usual annoyance became a welcome distraction, though. "Hey, Micaiah!" they heard Edward call. Both of them turned to glance at the red-clad swordsman as he sprinted toward them. Even a march to the capital of Crimea didn't dampen the boy's energy. That was part of the reason Sothe couldn't help but still think of Edward as a boy, even though he was twenty now.

"What is it?" Micaiah asked him.

Edward pointed skyward. "We have visitors."

Micaiah looked up. Then she smiled. "Ah." She waved, and two figures — one white, one black, both with wings spread — spiraled gracefully from the sky to land in front of her.

"Queen Daein." The one-time raven king bowed slightly. His wife Leanne was less formal, and skipped forward to give Micaiah a hug. Leanne had formed close friendships will all the female rulers in Tellius, and had been one of the first to forgive Micaiah after the last war: after all, she could see into people's hearts, too. The girls had become friends during the long march to the Tower of Guidance, where Micaiah's understanding of the ancient language had let her help the heron girl learn the modern speech.

Sothe brought his mind back to the present, which was more pleasant but just as confusing to him as that march against the goddess had been. He hadn't really cared about all the internal struggles in that war, just like he didn't really care about Kurth's mysterious request now that had them all en route to Melior for a meeting — he was just here because of Micaiah. She still hadn't said what the meeting was for, and Sothe hadn't asked, because by now he doubted that she really knew; but, she went, and he followed.

"I see you also received the dragon king's letter," Naesala noted.

Micaiah nodded. "Do you know who else is coming?" she asked him. If anyone would know besides the man who sent the letter, Sothe thought, it would be this particular raven.

Naesala tilted his head slightly to the side. "All the heroes of the Judgment War were summoned," he revealed. Micaiah's eyebrows went up. "Though not all of them are coming, so I hear," Naesala went on. "You've even left some people in Daein, haven't you?"

"Pelleas and Tauroneo are taking care of affairs for me," Micaiah said. "And Laura has too many children to watch over now, and Aran stays with her. Everyone else has come." She gazed at him thoughtfully. "And do you have any idea what the purpose of this meeting is? I've never known Kurth to be so vague."

"I've heard a few things," Naesala admitted. "Just rumors, really, but the rumors I hear have an odd tendency to be true…"

"So, according to your rumors, what is going on?" Micaiah asked again.

"Well, only a fool says he knows for sure," Naesala replied with a twist of a smile, stretching languidly and lacing his hands behind his head. "But the word on the wind is that Ike has returned."


	3. Reunions

_Author's note: as a reviewer pointed out to me, not much has been revealed so far — true. Sorry about that, more mysteries than revelations so far. This chapter basically consists of getting up to speed with what our characters have been up to, before all hell breaks loose. Just for you guys, I think I'll stay up till an ungodly hour of the morning writing feverishly to bring on the next bit where something actually happens. Good luck to us all, I guess. (Oh, and please let me know if I misspell any characters' names or anything, so I can fix them. Thanks.)_

_**Disclaimer: **__Fire Emblem stuff not mine_

….

At first the gathering at Melior was just like any reunion of old friends and comrades. The last time all of them had been together — those of them left on Tellius, anyway — had been two years ago at Elincia and Geoffrey's wedding. Everyone wanted to know everything new, and so chatter and shameless gossip was prevalent in the meeting room. Jill and Haar had finally gotten married after a metaphorical whack over the head from their good-intentioned, interfering friends. Sanaki had finally rid her country of the last corrupt senator and installed Tormod among the new, trustworthy ones — and although she was still slightly at odds with Lehran, at least she had rescinded the sentence to have him drowned in rancid butter. A smile twitched Micaiah's lips. Ah, the many sides of her little sister, so formal and cold one minute, and yet with a little bit of joking and impishness still hidden away in her heart. The last piece of surprising news came from the Greil Mercenaries and company, the biggest news for the group since Mist and Boyd's wedding years ago: Mia had accepted a proposal, as told by the new ring on her hand.

"Giving up the wandering, then? Edward asked her incredulously.

Mia waved one hand — the other was laced with Rhys'. "My archenemy is out there," she declared. "I see no reason why he or she can't find me in Crimea." She eyed Edward suspiciously, for about the hundredth time in seven years. "You've never considered wearing white, have you?"

Micaiah laughed quietly, contentedly. She wasn't currently part of any conversation; she leaned against the wall with Sothe, pushing aside her worry to be happy to see her old friends again.

"Micaiah, Sothe." Queen Elincia appeared before them with a smile. "It's good to see you again. How is everything in Daein?"

"We're doing well, thank you," Micaiah replied. "We were expecting a visit from Rafiel and Nailah, before Kurth called us here. But Pelleas is perfectly capable of handling everything as long as we're gone." Micaiah glanced around the room again before she mentioned, "I haven't seen Geoffrey here yet."

"He'll be here shortly," Elincia said with a fond smile. "He was going to take Ramona along to her tutor, then escort Kurth through the castle."

Micaiah nodded slightly. Someone else called Elincia's name and she excused herself; but Micaiah remained staring at the floor where she'd been, determined not the cry. She was happy for Elincia, honestly happy, that she and Geoffrey had an adorable daughter, an heir to the throne, a child… she was happy for Elincia. But for herself…

Sothe touched her face gently — then he drew her into his arms. "It'll be alright, Micaiah," he whispered, stroking her hair soothingly. "All the healers agree you're fine." He tilted her face up to his and kissed away the single tear. "We will have a child."

Micaiah mustered up a smile, because she knew that the trauma of her miscarriage had scared him even more than it had her. So she tried for a smile, for Sothe, and was reasonably pleased with her success. Two years and his loving strength helped her to push the sadness back, and she returned his kiss. "Of course we will," she murmured, "and you'll be just as overprotective as you are of me."

A slight smile flitted across his face. "As long as they eat their vegetables."

Micaiah laughed, just as the door opened. She turned back to face the room; but she leaned against Sothe's side, with his arm around her shoulders and his hand clasped in both of hers.

"Sorry for the delay," Geoffrey announced. He went to Elincia's side, and Kurth entered the room. His hair was longer than she remembered, but his face looked unchanged by the passing years. Seeing him, Micaiah frowned slightly. Something whispered through her mind, almost but not quite like a message from Yune; she glanced around the room, feeling that that might help her pinpoint the niggling half-idea, but she was distracted before any coherency formed: because two people followed Kurth, and nearly everyone gasped. Micaiah felt Sothe stiffen in surprise.

Words on the wind notwithstanding, no one had heard from him for — goddess, how many years? Three, four? Some had thought him dead. Most had thought he would be fine. None of them had ever really expected to see him again.

"Commander Ike?"

...

_PS: reviewers win, obviously, so there's double the chapters tonight… I just like to leave off chapters with little cliffhangers… maybe bigger ones in the future (mwahaha.) Anyway, thanks everyone for the reviews, keep it up and I might just keep updating… _


	4. Bad News

_Author's note: who needs sleep? Reviews are better, so here's the next chapter right away. Thanks to you guys who have left reviews so far, even if I can't be bothered to look up all your names right now. You know you're special._

_**Disclaimer: **__c'mon, you know I didn't invent this stuff_

…

The Commander — there was no other way to think of him, even after so many years — nodded. "Yeah, we're back. And I'm really glad to see everybody again, but I've got some bad news."

Sothe glanced down at Micaiah. Her hands clenched his tightly, and her gold eyes stayed wide and fixed on Ike and Soren. Then she shivered a little, her eyelashes fluttering. Sothe held on to her, knowing that her vision had to be disturbing to shake her like this.

"What bad news, Ike?" Elincia asked. "Where have you been?"

Soren stepped forward, reaching inside his simple black robes. "We've been all over," he reported, taking out a sheaf of papers. He laid them out on the table, revealing hand-drawn but no doubt excruciatingly accurate maps. "But the important place right now is this: Ketar, past the Desert of Death and the kingdom of Hatari."

"I thought Hatari was all there is?" Titania frowned.

"And we used to think Hatari didn't exist." Soren shook his head. "There's a lot out there — more than we ever thought. The Great Flood may have drowned much of the world, but if it did, the world has grown back. Anyway," he went on briskly. "The reason we came back is—"

"War."

Most of the room's occupants looked around to locate the voice. Sothe stared down at Micaiah. Her eyes were still closed, her face unnervingly calm, but pale. Soren turned slowly to look at her.

"Yes," he confirmed without emotion. "Ketar now, unfortunately, has proof that Tellius exists. And they are coming to conquer it."

For a moment there was a stunned silence. Micaiah leaned her head back with a soft thump against Sothe's chest.

"So," she said quietly. "We can assume that Hatari and Daein will be attacked first." She opened her eyes to look at Sothe. "I bet I know what Queen Nailah wanted to discuss…"

Sanaki rose to her feet. She was never going to be tall, but she had only gained commanding presence over the years. "Begnion will stand with Daein, sister," she announced.

Micaiah looked down, and smiled at the Empress. "I hope that fighting can be avoided," she said, "but I greatly appreciate knowing that you're there, Sanaki."

"We may have to stand together," Ike warned. "Ketar is a big kingdom, bigger than Begnion even. And from what we saw, they take their military very seriously."

Sothe squeezed Micaiah's hand gently. It was a silent promise that they both knew the words of. She laced her small, warm fingers with his.

"I don't know how effective talking will be," Soren warned. "Obviously we will try, but they seemed quite eager to conquer."

"Well, they can't," Tibarn said flatly. "Too much of our blood is in this land for someone else to take it." He looked at Micaiah. "You've got the army of the bird tribes behind you, too. It's unfortunate for your country, but Daein is the best place to meet them. If they gain a foothold in Tellius, it'll be that much harder to drive them out."

"Agreed," Soren said calmly, as if he were discussing the weather instead of impending doom. "You mentioned that the Queen of Hatari is on her way here. It's unlikely that we could get an army to Hatari to defend it — and the Desert of Death makes for a good natural defense line. I suggest that she move her people and bring her army to Daein to join the defending armies."

"What of the seas?" Kurth asked. "We cannot leave Goldoa, Gallia, and Crimea undefended if an attack should come from the ocean."

Soren thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Danger from the seas is negligible. Ketar is landlocked, has few ships and no naval war force. By all means leave a skeleton guard at your capitals — that should be more than enough to handle the amount and condition of any troops they could possibly bring around Tellius by sea."

Kurth nodded, satisfied with Soren's judgment. "Very well. Then, Micaiah, the dragons of Goldoa will also defend Daein, if you will have us."

"Certainly, Kurth," Micaiah smiled wanly. "Thank you."

Sothe looked down at her in concern. Before he spoke up, though, Lehran did. "Soren, Ike," he said quietly. "Perhaps the tactical discussions would best take place once Queen Nailah gets here, and after we have had some time to assess the extent of our countries' capabilities and limitations at the moment. We may be of more use to you then."

Soren hesitated, but Elincia and Sanaki both nodded. "I would like a little time to discuss these things with my vassals," Elincia said gravely. "Crimea has striven to be a peaceful nation."

"So have we all, Elincia," Tibarn pointed out. "Not much we can do about that when war comes knocking on our doors."

"We could reconvene in Daein," Sothe suggested before an argument broke out. He sighed silently to himself. _This is going to be a disaster. _He looked at Ike, though, with a small — possibly desperate — hope. If any man could handle so many different countries all trying to work together… well, he'd commanded the armies of the laguz and Begnion once. "I hope you'll hang around," Sothe told him, "but Daein is willing to hire the Greil Mercenaries for the duration of the war."

Ike smiled. "Of course we'll help, but the paying thing might make Soren happier."

"Indeed," the tactician muttered. "Very well. We'll meet again in Nevassa in a week's time."

The atmosphere relaxed, if only slightly. Titania let out a long breath, and went over to Ike. "It's good to have you back, Commander," she said with a smile.

Ike shifted, his regular scowl back. "Listen, I don't want to take—"

"Nonsense," Titania said briskly. "You're our commander as long as you're here."

Ike almost smiled. "Thank you, Titania." He glanced around at his group. "Does anybody — besides Shinon — object?"

There was a chorus of no's and one offended snort. "Hope you're up for a duel at dawn, boss!" Mia said cheerfully. "Don't think 'cause you were gone, you get a freebie. I'm gonna beat you this time around."

Sothe tugged on Micaiah's hand, and signaled discreetly to the other Daeins, while the mercenaries' reunion distracted most of the room. "Let's go," Sothe said. "The quicker we get home, the better."

…

_PS: if anybody has some brilliant Soren-like battle plans they wish to share, I'll most likely end up being grateful. I don't have his magic hat, unfortunately._


	5. Coping

_Author's note: I probably won't have a chapter up tomorrow, just warning. But hopefully with a little downtime I can get a few done and have a back log to update once a day with. Fingers crossed — my yuletide gift…_

_**Disclaimer: **__don't own Fire Emblem_

…

Elincia stared unhappily into her pack. It was a small one, and full of daily necessities and a few changes of clothes — but completely devoid of anything that hinted at levity. The clothes she wore now matched the ones she'd packed: the light, durable shirt and pants that she would put her armor on over. She plopped down on her bed in a very unqueenly fashion, glaring at the aforementioned suit of armor. It was a relic of House Crimea, like the treasured blade beside it, as beautiful as any item of warfare could be; but it was still for war. Elincia did not want to believe that she would pick up a sword again. It hardly made a difference to her as to why she was doing it — she hated the fighting, the bloodshed, the anger and fear that overtook her on the battlefield, and subsequently her fear _of _that anger…

War was a terrible thing, no matter why it happened. Elincia had once stood between two mighty armies, completely alone and at odds with both of them, and laid down her sword. She had stood between them utterly defenseless — and she had felt far better then than she did now.

...

"It's stupid to put this off."

"Soren, my friend," Ike mumbled, "if you ran the world, it would be a more efficient place."

Soren snorted, sorting through a stack of books. "I think that's the worst idea you've ever come up with."

A slight smile threatened as memories popped unbidden into Ike's mind. "Really?"

An uncharacteristic pause. "Maybe not," the tactician admitted.

Ike dropped the last of the maps on Soren's table and leaned back against a bookshelf, crossing his arms. "You sure you're up to this again?" he asked more quietly and seriously.

"This is what I do," Soren replied calmly. "If you're going to lead the company again, you need me. If you ask me to come up with strategies, I need to renew my familiarity with Daein's geography, among other things." He looked up from an ancient tome with narrowed crimson eyes. "I suspect you're not going to make yourself useful here."

Ike couldn't argue. "Soren, how many libraries d'you think we visited? And when was I ever interested?"

The slim strategist sighed. "You should get some sleep."

"So should you," he countered.

"I don't need it."

"Sure."

"I don't."

"Soren."

He slammed the book closed. "Ike, there's no time, and you know it. If the rest of them are going to waste a week, I can't." He took a deep breath and pulled the maps toward him. "Go get some sleep. If you can't do that, I'm sure some other idiot is out there training. Do something useful."

Ike sighed silently. Soren's acerbic tongue had returned full strength. The boy had grown less sarcastic during his travels with Ike, though he remained suspicious enough for an entire kingdom. Ike couldn't really blame him for the anger he'd buried deep or the frustration he felt upon returning to Tellius. They had never talked about coming back, until the day they both knew that they had to.

It wasn't exactly a great homecoming.

...

Sothe closed the door to their private room quietly. He heard a sigh behind him, and turned to see Micaiah collapsed onto the sofa with a thump. She hid her face in her hands with a quiet moan. "Is Daein ever going to recover?" she whispered. "Am I going to be always in charge of a war? Have… Sothe, have I done more harm than good here… has my presence, my reign, just doomed the country I serve?"

"Stop that," Sothe murmured. He knelt in front of her, pulling her hands away from her face. She looked at him with tears in her gold eyes. Sothe brushed her silver hair out of her face. She was gold and silver, and far more precious to him than either. "We'll get through this," he promised, pressing his lips gently to her forehead. "Daein is lucky to have you, Micaiah. They realized it when we were the Dawn Brigade, and they never doubted you even during the war against the Laguz Alliance. If you have to stand and fight on Daein soil to defend all of Tellius, everyone will stand with you." He brushed a tear from the corner of her eye. "Especially me. I'll be right in front of you."

Micaiah almost smiled. "The expression is 'right behind you'."

Sothe shook his head. "No, in front. So I can protect you."

"Sothe…" she curled her hand to his cheek, and he leaned into her warmth. "Thank you," she whispered against his lips. Her hand pressed lightly over his heart as she kissed him, and as always he marveled at her warmth — the warmth of her kiss and of her soul. It worked its way inside his heart, unlocked that which he hid from everyone else, allowing him to give her the gentleness that he'd so often feared he'd lost. But there was still compassion and gentleness in him, even after everything — as long as Micaiah was there.

Reluctantly breaking the kiss, Micaiah murmured "I should—"

"It can wait." Sothe shifted up onto the couch and gathered her into his arms. She made one half-hearted protest; then she snuggled into him. Her hand rested half-curled on his chest. She lay her head on his shoulder, and he rested his cheek on her soft hair. This was perfection, he thought, running his hand slowly up and down her arm. Feeling Micaiah relax against him, almost dozing in his arms, warm in the sunlight streaming through the window. He knew that things couldn't stay this way — they both knew, but he was willing to shoulder that knowledge for her, because he could put it aside. He had been a thief, and perhaps he always would be: because he could put aside a crisis and steal one shining moment with the woman he loved.

...

Queen Nailah stood at the gates of her ruined city, feeling the desert wind brush through her hair. She glared at the firelight in the near distance, wondering if she had the strength to go all the way to their camp and wreak her vengeance. The thought seemed more and more appealing by the second. Some of them would freeze under her murderous stare alone. Others would come at her. She would not feel pain if they touched her. She would feel their flesh tear and their blood flow under her fangs, she would hear their screams of terror and agony as she ripped through their camp, she would see their bodies sprawled and strewn on the ground at her red-stained paws…

"Don't."

Her lips lifted in the barest beginnings of a snarl, the closest she had ever come to snapping at the white figure. Rafiel simply stood there, though, knowing her heart better than she did at the moment. No matter what happened, she would never hurt him. She didn't look at him. She didn't want the serenity that he breathed. She wanted revenge. But Rafiel's lament for Hatari still echoed in the air and her heart. She trembled with rage and sadness, two warring sides of her each seeking something different.

"Goddess damn it, Rafiel," she sighed at last. "You should let me go."

His slender hand touched her tattooed arm. "You promised you wouldn't."

She shot him a glance. "I don't recall this."

"You promised you would not leave me alone. If you go, you will die. That would break your promise." Again she thought about snarling, and glared at the desert briefly before jerking her one-eyed gaze back to the heron prince. His long golden hair shifted in the cold night breeze, and he shivered. "I know how you feel," he murmured. His green eyes pierced her. "You lost. They came and attacked, and you weren't here as you should have been. You didn't see it coming, and so you weren't here in time, and you lost your city, and half your people, to these strangers—"

"_Stop it_," she hissed. "Stop that this instant."

His hand tightened around her wrist. "Nailah, please. You're hurt. You're tired. You've run from halfway to Daein in the sun to get here and fight. You can't go after them — not now or _ever_, if you're alone, do you understand me? Never go after them alone." His melodic voice trembled slightly. "Please, Nailah."

The wolf queen stared at him for a long moment, torn. Then she tipped back her head and howled her grief and anger to the rising moon.

"They will pay for this," she said slowly, lowering her head. "Mark my words, Rafiel. I care not for peace any more, be it under the threat of Ashunera herself. I will not rest until these strangers have felt the pain of each one of my wolves. _They will pay._"

She whirled away. "Volug!" she snapped. Her right hand loped closer, having kept his distance while she talked with Rafiel. "Get them ready to move," Nailah ordered, and her biggest victory of the day was keeping her voice steady at that moment. "We will cross the desert to Daein. We have much to tell Micaiah."

…

…

_PS: to my reviewers:_

_Tom-Ato13 — yeah, I didn't want to make the couples the most important part of the story, but I felt like it needed to be mentioned at least somewhere. I think everybody's covered… did I miss a canon couple? I haven't tried all the bond supports, I know. And yeah, after five or six years, I thought there should be a reason why Micaiah didn't have an heir yet. And better yet, a depressing reason. :/ unfortunately that's the way my brain works._

_NiRvAnAaDvAnCiNg95 — first, I haven't said thanks for being the first to review :)__ second, (and also to anybody reading) if you're sitting on any brilliant Soren-like ideas that you don't think you'll use, I'll find a place for them (meaning I'll be eternally grateful and my war won't end after three battles cuz of running out of ideas… I need a magic hat.)_

_Thanks to everybody reading, I hope you like it, feel free to review._


	6. This Means War

_Author's note: sorry for no update yesterday, but we're finally getting into some action. On the other hand, this first attempt was written at one in the morning and might be kinda crappy. Please review._

_**Disclaimer: **__the stuff you recognize belongs to Nintendo, not me_

…

…

"Ah, optimism," Naesala muttered under his breath. "Remind me why this was a good idea."

"Because," Reyson said through gritted teeth, "war is a worse idea. Any more stupid questions?"

"No, my lord prince," Naesala muttered back. He fought to keep his wings still and flat against his back under the dark cloak he wore. Reyson wore a similar cloak of white — they didn't want the foreigners to know exactly what they were dealing with. The Ketarans had witnessed the wolves of Hatari transforming and fighting in animal form, but Soren had said that they mightn't guess right away that Naesala and Reyson were capable of the same. As long as they hid their laguz features, they had an ace up their sleeves: although it was one he would rather not have to use, it was good to remember the sheer speed at which Naesala would be able to transform and escape with Reyson.

He remembered another thing, one which almost brought a smile to his face. Leanne had not been happy to hear who had been chosen for this meeting.

"_Someone else can go," she'd insisted, her hands on her slim hips._

"_It's already settled, love," he had told her. "I'm the fastest. Reyson's one of the best, and Soren said that Ketar has no female politicians. So that kind of rules out any of the superb queens and diplomats we have."_

_She had glared at him with far more fire than any heron had the right to. "You're all idiots. No. Nothing is worth losing my husband and my brother." Her voice had trembled there._

_He hated that he'd had no real comfort to give her. "We have to try," was all he'd been able to say._

"Naesala!"

Reyson hissed his name, and the raven jerked his thoughts back to the present. A delegation dressed in black armor approached their position. It was the middle of nowhere, really — some ruins between Hatari and Daein, between the two preparing armies. This wide sandstone courtyard stretched out for a square kilometer, with a few ancient, weathered pillars marking the edges. The diplomats met in the middle.

The Lord of Ketar had come with one swordsman and two archers. Naesala and Reyson appeared unarmed. The raven eyed those archers, noting the curve of the war bows and approximating at their range. It would depend on how good the men were, but at best they would probably shoot a hundred meters before losing accuracy. Not the worst odds he'd ever gone up against, Naesala thought. Still, it would have been better if there'd been only one.

The Ketaran group stopped a few paces away, and the fancily dressed one took one more step forward. "Greetings. I am Lord Ombrose, sent to speak with the representative of your lands by my Overlord, leader of Ketar and all its might and glory."

Naesala fought down a smirk. If that wasn't an ego that needed a few good knocks… but he said nothing, and let Reyson do the talking.

"I am Prince Reyson of Serenes," the heron replied, "elected by the leaders of Tellius to speak with you on behalf of our countries. Quite simply, we see no reason for a war to happen."

Lord Ombrose inclined his head. "Certainly. Then you relinquish all rights to your lands and their resources?"

Reyson's green eyes — so like his sister's, including that fire — were hard and calm. "Until recently, Ketar had no knowledge of Tellius' existence. Your country seems to have flourished without our resources. I'm sure you will continue to prosper."

"Our Overlord has decided that the road to prosperity lies through Tellius."

Reyson's eyes searched the lord's for a long, silent moment. Desert wind whipped through the courtyard. The soldiers behind the lord could not manage to stand still, as most soldiers couldn't when they felt the prickle of impending battle across their skin. Naesala cast a glance over them, wondering what might set them off. He, too, was ready for instant action or reaction, but his goal was much simpler — he only had to get Reyson out of there.

The lord swallowed, the only indication that he was the slightest bit fazed by Reyson's soul-searching scrutiny. The sweat on his brow and lip could have been the desert sun.

"You will not leave us in peace, then," Reyson said finally.

The lord gave him a shallow bow. "There need not be a fight, if you only—"

The swordman's hand twitched. Before conscious thought had finished forming, Naesala had swung free of his cloak, tossed it at the soldiers, and whirled in front of Reyson. The heron prince grabbed his shoulders even as Naesala launched himself from the ground into the sky, the transformation from man to bird sweeping over him. His wings pushed at hot air, straining and screaming for higher, faster, farther, out of reach of those damned bows, which he could hear twanging below — he jerked aside, not daring to make any evasive maneuver that could dump Reyson from his back. He heard the wicked hiss of arrows splitting the air, and flew on. The desert wind whipped behind him, giving him even more speed.

"_Bring him home safe," Leanne had asked him. "I know you can bring both of you back to me safely. Please."_

He'd promised, and luckily he had a lifetime of finely honed survival instincts to back that promise. Adrenaline rushed through him, keeping him going, flying nearly full speed all the way back to the fort at the border of Daein. He may have abdicated his kingship, but he was still the fastest creature in Tellius, even when he knew they were far out of the enemy's range. It would take Ombrose far longer to get back to his army, and the forces of Tellius needed every extra second of forewarning.

Finally, with a last, relieved beat of his wings, he landed in the courtyard of the fort, and Reyson dropped to the ground. Naesala's raven form slipped from him, and he leaned back against the wall, utterly exhausted. His wings ached and his lungs gasped in sharp bursts of air.

Reyson grasped his shoulder. "Are you alright?" When Naesala didn't respond right away, Reyson began to sing. It was a familiar galdrar, one that restored the strength to his shaking wings and sent new energy coursing through him.

Naesala looked up at Reyson with a wry grin. His chest stung and he glanced down. "Hm." He touched the thin line of blood across his skin curiously. A graze from one of the arrows. "Well, that could've been worse."


	7. The First Strike

_Author's note: hello hello hello, and right off the bat please forgive me for my infidelity. I promise it couldn't be helped, and it really wasn't my fault. I haven't had the chance to update, but now that I'm back from a pocket of the ancient world and have reclaimed my gods-given right to Internet access, here's the next chapter._

_**Disclaimer: **__stuff you recognize from FE belongs to Nintendo and peeps_

…

…

Micaiah stood stock-still at the edge of the battlements at Fort Kain. Her hands rested on the stone crenellation before her. The rock was warm from the sun, but she only felt cold. She closed her eyes, searching for the future — but she only caught glimpses, and those made her snap her eyes open again, forcing down a shiver. Possible futures, she told herself fiercely. Not all of them would come to pass. Then she had to fight down a laugh, because she knew that if she started she wouldn't be able to stop the crazy sound. It was impossible that all of the futures she saw would come true: her friends could only die once apiece.

"Micaiah?"

She looked up at Sothe, fighting down the image of his lifeless eyes in the darker corners of her mind. He was here and she would keep him safe.

"Are we ready?" she asked quietly.

He nodded. "Soren and Ike are waiting at the standard to the order."

Micaiah rolled her eyes. "I thought I put him in charge for a reason."

"Yeah, but they're still mostly Daein soldiers here. Let's go."

"Of course." She followed the subtle sweep of his long dark coat through the ranks of silver-armored soldiers. Daein's army had once issued black armor, but not since Micaiah had become Queen. She was glad about that, now that Ketar's army marched toward them in ebon armor.

"We're ready," she said to Ike and his tactician.

"Right. You want to give the signal?" he responded, unsheathing his sword.

"Very well," Micaiah nodded and raised her hand into the air. A light flared over the fort: the prearranged signal to Tibarn and his soldiers.

The air stirred under the beat of a thousand wings. For a moment there was only the soft sound of rushing wind, and then—

The battle scream of the bird king rent the air, followed by another, and another, until the sky was full of diving, plunging, shrieking birds. Then the talons of the ravens and hawks clashed against the steel of Ketar, and the battle began.

Ike nodded to Tormod, who send up a flaming signal much like Micaiah's light. "Launch!" Ike shouted as the birds soared higher into the sky. The Ketaran army had just enough time to breath a sigh of relief before the catapults' bombardment hit them.

After a few volleys, Ike told Ilyana to send up the next lightning signal. "Archers! Begin!" The Daein archers, commanded by Leonardo, concentrated their synchronized fire on the clumps of soldiers which had inadvertently formed as the Ketarans tried to avoid the huge chunks of rock smashing down around them.

"Look," Soren noticed, pointing. "They're rallying." He shrugged slightly. "Well, it couldn't last forever." Indeed, the commanders of the advancing army had reformed their men, and continued the march toward the fort. Now organized, the enemy were advancing more quickly than the defenders had anticipated.

"Do we repeat the pattern?" Ike asked him. "Send in the flyers again, or hold them back and wait?"

A second of foresight slammed into Micaiah. "Send them in again," she said, "with the pegasus and dragon knights. You!" she called a soldier over. "Tell Captain Leonardo to cover the flying units with his elite archer team, to begin at the signal of one light flare and end at two."

"Yes, m'lady!" the soldier dashed off.

"Tibarn!" Micaiah called, searching the skies. "Did you hear that?"

The biggest hawk wheeled a small circle above their heads, letting them know he had. He would tell his men.

Ike raised his eyebrows and glanced at Soren. The young strategist nodded. "We won't have time for another full cycle before they're here," he explained, "and having all the archers firing would put the flyers at risk. How good is this elite team?"

"Marksmen only," Sothe told him, "and also under Leonardo."

Micaiah sent another light flare into the sky. The catapult barrage and most of the arrows stopped, and the bird tribes dove again — this time accompanied by white pegasus wings and colorful dragon ones.

The Queen of Daein watched as the first battle for her country continued; and she thought to herself that it looked very much like all the other battles she had fought.

…

"Ready!" Ike shouted, striding through the defense ranks. Sothe and Titania were beside him, with Micaiah and Soren just behind. They joined the others of the Greil Mercenaries and the one-time Dawn Brigade in the middle of the battlefield. Ike halted there, wanting to be close enough to send help to all sides if it was needed. The fight would soon come to them within the first wall of the fort.

_Bang! _on the heavy doors. Ike glanced up to the battlements above the door, where the archers fired down at the mass of Ketaran soldiers.

_Bang!_ again. Titania and Oscar's horses shifted slightly, then went still again. The animals were as ready for the fight as their masters.

_Bang! _Just a few more of those strikes would bring it down. Ike wondered briefly what the enemy was using to batter the doors; none of the archers or flying units had reported seeing any kind of ram among the soldiers they targeted. But through the growing cracks in the door Ike could see a bright light building…

"Ike!" He half-turned toward Soren. The dark-haired strategist was also looking at the cracks in the doors. "Ike, that's magic… but it's not like anything I've ever seen before…"

"Thanks for the warning, Soren," Ike started to say, but he didn't have the time:

_Bang!_

And that was it for the doors. Ike steadied his breathing, preparing for the fight to come to him, as it hit the front lines.

Armored generals and marshals absorbed the first rush of the attack. As they became mired in hand-to-hand fighting, the mounted knights behind them began to throw their spears and axes, and shoot their bows to thin the ranks attacking the armored soldiers in front of them.

Ike felt a light touch on his arm. He looked down, expecting Soren, but it was Micaiah. "Go," she said, nodding toward the front line. "And make sure you fall back when you need to."

Ike nodded and hefted Ragnell. "Greil Mercenaries! With me!" He strode through the waiting ranks with his familiar band. As they approached the front line, no words were needed for them to fall into their positions: Ike, Titania, Boyd, and Gatrie merged into the front rank, with Mia, Shinon, and Oscar right behind them for support as needed. Soren, Rolf, and Rhys hung back, sending arrows and spells over their heads, and Mist cantered her horse along the lines wherever she was needed. Aware that his team was in position and the army was moving smoothly, Ike fell easily into the rhythm of the fight. Ragnell hummed its familiar death song as it split air, then armor. The blade felt so right in his hand — he had not missed war, ever, but he had missed this sword. It seemed that Sanaki was only willing to give it to him as a bribe to lead an army.

Ike spun and slashed and stabbed for what felt like days. He was aware when Micaiah gave the order for the beast tribe laguz to leap into the fray, a signal they were most happy to obey. He heard the roar of the lion king Skrimir, and the ground shook as his men answered. Ike just kept going, just kept his sword moving, blocking, cutting. He had just finished off a soldier that Soren's wind magic had wounded when the strategist grabbed his arm and dragged him backwards with surprising strength. Ike started to protest, then discovered that he could barely breathe and blood was running down his leg and his face. He wiped it roughly out of his eyes as Rhys pushed closer to him, wielding his staff. Ike glanced behind and noted that Mia had taken his place in the line, striking with her sword like lightning and evading all enemy attacks. Good girl.

A screech of fury soared above the rest of the battle cacophony. Ike saw Tibarn dive into the battle, talons out and eyes practically sparkling. Ike shook his head. The bird king did strive for peace in Tellius, but really King Kurth was the only truly peaceful laguz ruler Ike knew… and he'd gone up against Ashera, once. Ike shrugged. Different war, now in the past. This was the present, and if Tibarn was enjoying himself, well, let him get it out of his system.

An explosion shook the ground and made Ike stumble. Rubble and dust flew everywhere. Soren coughed out one of his wind spells, and the air cleared.

The tactician narrowed his eyes. "What was that?" he muttered.

"Meteor?" Micaiah suggested. She brandished an unusual light tome, dealing a devastating amount of damage to the enemy cavalry.

"No, it wasn't fire… I wonder—"

"Later, Soren!" Ike shouted, knocking aside a javelin before it struck his strategist. Soren snapped his attention back to the fight and cast another wind spell at the solider who had thrown it.

"Ike!" Mist's voice, shrill with panic. Ike charged toward her, cutting down the enemy without mercy. Mist's sword had shattered, and she was trying to fend off a swordsman's attacks with her staff. Her horse dodged and wheeled, but it was cut on the shoulder, and wearying.

Ike stepped in front of Mist and blocked the sword. "Go!" he shouted at her, and could only hope that she obeyed. The swordsman stabbed at Ike again; he stepped aside and struck back. The man blocked, staggering slightly under the power of Ike's blow. Then he whipped his sword free and feinted left, then cut overhand. Ike had expected the feint, though, and struck the real blow away with ease. He stabbed at the soldier's chest; when the man turned it aside, Ike went with the new momentum. He raised his left arm, and the swordsman's blade clanged off the metal gauntlet there, and then Ike slashed his sword across the man's unprotected back. With lightning speed, before the man recovered, Ike swung Ragnell again and parted the enemy's head from his shoulders.

The quiet made him look around more closely. Most of the ring of steel and rush of magic had gone. A few fights still went on, but they ended quickly as the defenders swarmed the remaining Ketarans. Ike stalked the courtyard, then the battlements, before he was assured that the enemy was truly gone.

He finally let out a long sigh. The fort was strewn with the dead and the wounded, but it was still in Daein hands. Ketar had struck the first blow and lost — now Ike went inside, to find his mercenaries and see what good he could do before inevitable next fight.


	8. Plans and Arrivals

_Psst! Please read the AN at the end!_

…

Ike ran his hand through his hair. "Okay. Not as bad as it could have been. And what's the report for the Greil Mercenaries?"

"There were no deaths and no injuries beyond our capability to heal," Soren reported. "We have some healing and repairs that will need to be taken care of before we're fully ready for battle again."

"Thanks, Soren," Ike said.

"So," Micaiah began. "We've weathered the first attack. The fort is in good shape, except for the main gate. I can order repairs unless," she glanced at Soren, "we agree that it would be better to leave this fort and occupy another one."

"Do you have another one in mind?" Ike asked.

"No," she declared. "There aren't a lot of defensive positions along this border, because we never expected to be attacked from this side. Also, the desert and these mountains provide a good natural buffer." She tapped her fingers against the map. "The point is, this fort is one of the only ones where we could deploy our cavalry outside; the other locations are too high in the mountains, with narrower passes."

"That makes them more defensible, though," Soren murmured. "This one, guarding the Serpent Pass, looks especially difficult to bypass."

"So what do you think?" Sothe asked him.

Soren raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Will you listen, even if I contradict the Queen?"

"We didn't hire you to ignore your advice," Sothe pointed out, refusing to rise to the bait. "I remember how well your tactics work."

Soren was quiet for a moment, staring at the map on the table. "Crimea's cavalry will arrive here the day after tomorrow. This fort is the last place before Daein proper where we can put them to good use." He closed his eyes briefly. "Get the repairs started immediately, and make sure the watch stays sharp, _obviously_. We've repelled the first attack but we haven't yet been able to get a count of their full army. They could mount another attack in the next day or two, to finish this fort while it's weakened. I think we should stay here, but be ready."

He opened his eyes. "Ike, and Sothe, choose the watchmen and position them well. Tibarn, send some of your people to get figures on the Ketaran army. Queen Micaiah, Ranulf, please remain here — I'd like to go over our plans for when the other armies arrive. If we're going to take the risk of staying here, we have to make the Crimean cavalry count."

Most of the room's occupants left. Soren looked up at the Queen of Daein. "There's one more thing," he said.

"That magic," she guessed.

Soren nodded briskly. "Have you ever seen anything like it?"

Micaiah shook her head slowly. "I haven't. It didn't seem to be anima, light or dark."

"Are you talking about how they broke down the gate so easily?" Ranulf asked.

"Yes," Soren answered. "And you must have noticed them fighting with magic, as well."

"I did," the cat replied. "I noticed the same thing Micaiah did; and also, those spells seemed to have unpredictable results." He shrugged. "Kind of reminded me of Ashera's Judgment — but that's impossible, isn't it?"

"Interesting," Soren murmured. "I don't like it, but it looks as though we'll have to wait and see. In the meantime…"

…

"No problem, Boss," Mia said breezily when Ike asked her to take a watch. She sprang to her feet, then paused and put her hand on Rhys' shoulder. "Don't push it," she warned him.

"I'll be fine," he assured her, his staff glowing a gentle blue over an injured soldier. "Don't worry."

"'Kay, then. See you later." She scampered off to the western wall of the fort, where Ike had told her to stay. She arrived and found the captain of the Daein archers already there. She recognized him from the Judgment War — Leonardo, a marksman, not wearing white and clearly not her archrival — and smiled brightly as she joined him.

"You alright?" she asked. "Get through the first battle okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine," he nodded gravely. "And you?"

"I'm great," Mia responded. She leaned against the top of a crenellation. "As good as anybody can be in a war. But hey, this is sort of what I do for a living."

"Me, too," Leonardo sighed. "Sometime — like now — I do wonder what I've gotten myself into."

Mia glanced at him, running her fingers idly over the hilt of her sword. "Well, you defend your country. And the people you care about. That's what it's really about, isn't it? I mean, we have our jobs, but at the end of the day, we don't fight for the money. It's because we believe in it."

Leonardo shot her a surprised look. "I thought you were a mercenary."

"I am," Mia said, straightening proudly. "One of the Greil Mercenaries. That's one of the reasons I stick with them, is because we don't take jobs that we can't support."

Leonardo inclined his head. "Right. Sorry. I forgot."

Mia shrugged, forgiving easily and moving on, the way she always did.

Their watch was supposed to be two hours long. But two stretched into three when no one came to switch with them. Mia didn't mind much, but she did take a quick break to do some acrobatics and a couple basic sword forms. She wasn't one to sit still for very long. Two hours was testing her limits.

"Mia," Leonardo said suddenly.

"What is it?" she asked, immediately stopping her form and rushing to the edge of the wall. Leonardo pointed, and she followed his arm to a cloud of dust in the distance — getting closer pretty quickly.

"Stay here and keep and eye on them," Leonardo muttered. "I'll go get Micaiah and General Ike."

Mia didn't realize until several minutes later that she'd never sheathed her sword: she still had it in her hand as she watched the dust cloud get closer. She thought about putting it away, but didn't, because she could see people-shapes at the bottom of the dust cloud now. It wasn't a desert wind throwing sand, it was definitely a small army.

"How far are they?"

Mia glanced behind her. "I'd say, at that rate, a couple hours," she told the Queen. Her hand flexed around the hilt of her sword.

To her surprise, Micaiah smiled. "Good."

"You know them?" Mia asked hopefully.

Micaiah nodded. "It's Queen Nailah and her wolves. And I believe she's accompanied by Stefan, and all those from his colony who can fight. I sent them a message a week ago."

"Whew," Mia sighed, relaxing. "Stefan, huh? He's a good one to have fighting for us, that's for sure."

Micaiah nodded — then her gaze slid past Mia, staring into the middle distance. Mia looked at her strangely, and Sothe took her arm to steady her. A moment passed. The trueblade raised her eyebrows at Sothe curiously, wondering if this was normal. He ignored her. That, at least, was pretty normal. Finally Micaiah sighed and closed her eyes.

"What is it?" Sothe asked instantly.

Micaiah rubbed her forehead. "Two days. There will be another attack the day after tomorrow — a force like today's. They won't send their whole army to us just yet. Soren was right: they're still testing us out, aiming to take the fort while it's weakened."

She looked up grimly. "Queen Nailah and Stefan will be here in time. Elincia and Sanaki will have to hurry. Mia, will you please keep watch here, I'll send someone to relieve you in a moment. Sothe, come on, we need to tell Soren and Ike, and send one of the ravens with a message to our allies. They have to hurry — and in the meantime, our defenses have to hold."

…

…

_Author's Note: I was reading something else and decided that it annoyed me how the notes were at the beginning and seemed to interrupt the story, so mine will be down here from now on. Just fyi._

_Well, that ending was a little abrupt there… I'm trying to get this up before midnight. Sorry. Maybe I'll revise later if I come up with something cleverer._

_Thought we'd take a tactics break, then go back into battle from someone else's perspective next time. Could be Elincia or Sanaki — might end up being Sothe. Unless you guys care to __**review **__and convince me that I should try somebody else! Open to suggestions, here._

_On that note, thanks guys for the reviews, especially GSFEfan25 for the tactical advice, and to Kiiroi Senko: I definitely accept the offer of tactical help from whoever. And, if I continue to miss anything from the game, please let me know (can't seem to work up the energy to write this and play the game for the umpteenth time…)_

_See you tomorrow! Back on track, hopefully for good this time!_

_PS: yes, I admit that I just watched The Two Towers, and the amazing cavalry of Rohan is inspiring me. My turn to try: coming soon. Fingers crossed for me._

_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own Fire Emblem. (duh)_


	9. The Captain of Ketar

Captain Noah Markus stood at ease on the battlefield. After ten years in the service of Ketar's army, he had stood on his fair share of bloodied ground. He had sworn his life into this service, and there was only one thing he cared about more than bringing a victory to his country.

"We're ready, Captain."

Markus glanced at the petite young woman beside him. "Thank you, Second Lieutenant," he said shortly. He raised his voice. "Colonel! Ready to go!"

"Forward march!"

Markus stepped forward in time with the other members of his unit. His lieutenant kept pace beside him, her steps a little quicker in order to keep up with his longer stride. He refrained from looking at her, knowing that if he did he would either glare or sigh. Neither was fitting to his position as Captain of the Onyx Guard, part of the elite magician corps of the Ketaran army. So he kept his eyes fixed forward, his thoughts on the coming fight and not on his second lieutenant.

War was inevitable in Ketar. Anyone who joined the army knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that they would see real battle in their time. Yet so many joined anyway — either because they were natural fighters, like Markus, or because they couldn't find work elsewhere, and there was always room to expand the ranks… or because they wanted to follow in the footsteps of someone they admired. They way his brave, stupid brother had. And, according to Rachel, the way she had, too.

He was glaring at her after all. Damn it. The Captain wrenched his gaze forward, scanning the skies for more of the enormous birds which had attacked with such devastating results the day before yesterday. He ran his fingers along his bow, grimly anticipating their return. Feathers would fly this time, he thought, glancing at the huge wooden contraption his unit would protect and operate. This time, they were better prepared.

"Remember how fast they were," Rachel muttered. "Don't wait for them."

Captain Markus took in a deep breath before he replied. "Thank you for the refresher, Lieutenant, now keep your mind on your own safety and that of the ballistician you're assigned to. They're our primary weapons against those birds this time."

His Lieutenant glanced over her shoulder. The ballista rolled along on enormous wooden wheels, pulled by a team of horses and operated by specialists — mainly Robinson, a mage on Markus' team. He was a great spellcaster, but the kid couldn't resist the new inventions the army turned out. As soon as something hit the field, Robinson had to know how to work it. At base, it annoyed the hell out of Markus and the rest of the team; but out here on the field, Robinson was indispensable. Markus didn't trust his safety to the usual half-dozen soldiers assigned to guard a ballista — so the Onyx Guard stayed together.

That hadn't pleased Rachel. "You're going to keep me out of all the action!" she'd accused Markus last night. "Again!"

"Lieutenant Fairchild," he'd growled, "your orders are final. Now go prep and leave me alone." Her face had fallen at his use of her surname, even though it was normal in the army. But, not with her. While hardly anyone even remembered Captain Markus' first name, Rachel was just Rachel. It was a low blow using her last name and he knew it.

An elbow nudged his ribs discreetly. "Cut it out, Cap," First Lieutenant Porter muttered. "Coming up on the defenses."

Markus gave no sign that he'd heard his second-in-command; he drew an arrow from his quiver and nocked it, still scanning for those birds. "Weapons at the ready," he told his unit. As one, they obeyed: about half drew swords or bows, while the others brought out their spellbooks. "Wait for my command."

The screech of those birds alerted Markus long before they reached his unit. "Robinson, fire at will!" Markus shouted. "Archers, draw! Aim! Fire!"

It was madness, like battle always was, but as usual Captain Markus felt like he was in the eye of the storm. He was soon drawing his sword to defend Robinson from the knights mounted on wyverns — not native to Ketar, but they'd been in the reports and he'd seen them last battle — those least susceptible to the arrows and the ballistae. As predicted, though, the birds and winged horses were taking astonishing damage. They couldn't sustain the losses that the huge, long-range arrows from the ballistae took out on them, so within an hour the sky was free of birds. The wyvern knights had pulled back, too, without their support. Now the Ketaran army could move forward without the impediment of winged death from above.

Markus almost smiled at the melodramatic thought. Then he gave Robinson the signal they'd been waiting for. The ballistician scrambled for the package he'd prepared.

"Ready, Captain!" he cried.

"Fire at the wall," Markus said grimly. "Onyx Guard, shield up!"

The mages raised their voices as one. The air in front of Markus shimmered; and then Robinson launched the latest missile, and seconds later the wall of Fort Kain exploded.

Markus heard cries from the defense and the attackers and a section of the wall burst into rubble and dust. He heard Robinson whoop in triumph, and he heard the war horn blowing, urging the army forward even as chunks of rock hit the Guard's shield and vaporized.

Markus caught Rachel's arm. "Lieutenant, stay right there. Robinson! One more of those, five meters left of the main gates. Then focus on their archers on top of the wall. The rest of you—"

The air split with a scream and a crash. The concussion threw Markus to the ground, his ears ringing. The mages cried out, and he heard Rachel quite clearly: "Captain, we've lost the shield!"

"What?" Markus staggered to his feet. Fifty meters to his left, smoke spiraled upward… then with a shock of horror Markus realized that seconds ago a ballista had stood there.

He whirled. "Robinson, OUT!"

The kid didn't hesitate, but dove out of the contraption. A split second later, another rush of screaming air knocked Markus off his feet again, and this time their ballista shattered into a thousand splinters.

The young Captain shot to his feet again, swearing. "Get the shield back up! Someone up there's using powerful magic!"

"You _think_?" Porter ground out, scooping up his dropped spellbook. Markus sheathed his sword and pulled out his bow again, familiar words spilling from his lips. He wasn't as good a mage as some of the Onyx Guard — he was a natural athlete, and preferred steel in his hands over intangible words — but this was a spell he knew by heart, could probably do in his sleep. It sharpened his eyesight, pulled his focus toward one certain person on the battlefield until Markus' eyes found a small figure in black standing on the battlements.

The Captain drew back an arrow, sighted carefully — it was a long shot. He steadied his breath for half a second, then let the arrow go. It streaked through the air, and shattered on the stone inches from the enemy mage's hand. The mage reacted instantly, and Markus felt that incredible concussion on the air again. Their shields were back in place, though, and the Onyx Guard was more than ready. This was what they did. Markus aimed and fired again, then once more while the black-clad mage ducked. The first arrow missed, but the second pierced cloth and probably flesh. Markus saw the mage go down and turned his attention elsewhere.

"Cap!"

Porter's voice yanked Markus out of the spell's focus. His sight weakened and widened again, and he shook his head slightly. Then he saw what his second did, just as the war horn blasted out a warning, and the wall of horse and steel crashed into them.

The mages' shield held for about thirty seconds, then vanished under the weight of the charge. Markus yanked his sword free again and leapt into battle.

Other units, though, had not fared so well. Not all of them had had shields up. Some of them had been hit hard. Others were decimated instantly. Markus couldn't care at that moment: he was too busy making sure that his unit didn't join them. He dodged a vicious axe strike from a red-clad knight, and struck back at the man's arm. The horse reared and lashed out with steel-shod hooves, and Markus was forced to leap back again. A blast of magic roared past his head, knocking the knight backward and off his horse. Markus found himself back-to-back with Robinson, the kid shouting out his spells with incredible speed and Markus still wielding his sword. He knocked an arrow out of the air, then yanked a knife from his belt and flipped it. Left-handed, he threw it at the mounted archer, knowing even as he turned to intercept a lance that the throw was good. He unhorsed the new opponent and stabbed him through the chest, his sword punching through the steel armor.

The Ketaran war horn note split the air again. Markus knew that signal — it was drilled into every single soldier's brain. "Onyx Guard!" Markus yelled. "To me! Fall back! To me!"

His unit gathered around him, and together they cut their way back through the battlefield. The new cavalry pursued them, as did those wolves they had fought in the very first kingdom of Tellius. That city had fallen quickly, but it seemed that these wolves who remained were out for revenge. A huge white wolf leapt in front of the Onyx Guard; before Markus could blink she had darted in and ripped a soldier's throat out. Then she whirled and knocked another to the ground, her fangs and claws tearing through his armor like paper. Markus slashed her flank with his sword — she barely reacted, just lashed out with her back paws. They hit his chest with a force like a battering ram, and he flew backwards to crash to the ground _yet again._

That falling thing was starting to really piss Markus off. He lunged back to his feet and leapt for the white wolf. He landed on her back, startling her — she whipped around, trying to throw him off, but he plunged a knife into her shoulder and hung on grimly. The wolf howled and rose up on her back legs. Markus lost his grip on the bloody knife and tumbled free. The white wolf turned on her back paws, glaring down at him with one murderous eye. The venom of that look froze Markus' blood in his veins, choked his breath in his lungs. In less than a second, this wolf would kill him, and she was going to enjoy it.

But the weight never crashed down on Markus. Porter slammed into the wolf from the side, and they both went down. Markus heaved in a breath, and felt hands dragging him up.

"Come on!" Rachel cried. "Go, Markus, go!"

He tried to shout for his unit, but he coughed on blood and dust. He heard his lieutenant take up the call for him, and he ran beside her with the flow of the retreating army. Anger boiled in his blood. _I thought we had it that time — we really did. _He coughed painfully, realizing that the damn wolf had probably cracked some of his ribs. _Not again. I will not lead them into another losing battle. Next time, it's ours._

…

…

_Author's note: so a certain Tom-Ato13 had an excellent idea that I decided to run with. This turned out to be more enjoyable than I had anticipated — I do hope you feel the same, because I have the feeling we'll see more of Captain Markus. _

_To a new reviewer, Brendan Aurabolt — thanks for leaving a review, first of all. Also, I never really thought much of Caineghis, so unfortunately nothing from his POV yet, although now I'm kind of interested. I do plan on giving more time to the laguz at some point, but I figured that it might take the beast and dragon tribes a while to get to Daein… although I guess I did mention Skrimir already. Well, Ranulf was my favorite; we'll probably see more of him. And, will Ashunera make an appearance? The Old Ones answer you thus… you'll just have to bloody well wait and see! :)_

_And to an old hand, thanks again to GSFEfan25 — and I promise I haven't forgotten about the dragons. How could I? No, they'll be along in their own sweet time. And I, too, enjoyed the support conversation. I'll try to work some of those if I feel like mine are good enough. I definitely like some of the minor characters enough to give them face time. _

_Well, more fighting for them, more goals for me, and more reviews for you guys to do! The vote on next chapter's perspective will continue for now, so hit the review button even if you just want to mention a name you'd like to see in chapter ten. See ya next time._

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own Fire Emblem stuff. I do own this story, including Ketar and Captain Markus and co. Don't think you can steal their awesomeness :)_


	10. Retreat

"The Holy Guard is standing by," Sigrun's pegasus landed lightly on the battlements behind Sanaki. "We're ready when you are."

Jill glanced over as she climbed into Peridot's saddle. Her green dragon shuffled her wings, readying herself for battle even as Jill did. Jill patted the dragon's neck encouragingly, and glanced at Haar. He, too, settled into his saddle, weapons in easy reach. The difference between them was, Jill felt strung as tight as a bowstring, whereas her husband looked like he was considering a quick nap. His dragon, Jet, turned to give him the warning eye. Jill covered her mouth as Haar's dragon deliberately shrugged his shoulders and shuffled his wings to keep Haar from getting too comfortable.

"All right!" she heard him hiss. "I get it. Cut that out!"

Jet settled, and Jill swore she heard a quiet dragon chuckle.

"All right," Soren announced. The small strategist looked even tinier than usual in Ike's protective shadow — but that wasn't surprising, Jill thought, considering that Soren had been wounded just yesterday. Ike had been very much against his staying here at all. However, in terms of stubbornness, Soren could outlast anyone. Besides, long-range magic was going to be one of their primary weapons today.

Jill let out a long, tense breath. Their goal today, the few of them who remained at Fort Kain, was simply to slow down the army. Take out as many of them as possible. Force them to regroup. Then, let the army swarm the fort — hampered by the rubble and by the many nasty traps Volke had been working on — and escape into the skies before the enemy knew they had left. The fastest members of the Holy Guard were standing by to take some of those who couldn't fly; Jill, Haar, Tibarn, and Naesala could also carry a passenger. Sigrun stood ready to sweep Sanaki out of danger the moment it presented itself.

"Tanith, go," Soren ordered. "They should be well clear by now. Rejoin the army and flood the valley behind you."

Tanith nodded sharply. "Good luck," she bade them, wheeling her pegasus. In a flurry of white wings, she took to the sky.

"They're in range," Micaiah stated.

Soren nodded. "Go ahead."

"Cover your eyes," the Queen warned, opening her tome. Jill made sure that Peridot's wings covered her face — then she hid her own face in her hands. A moment later, searing light shone through Jill's fingers and eyelids, and she wrenched her head away from Micaiah.

By the shouts and screams coming from below, the Ketaran army wasn't doing nearly so well.

…

Ranulf paused and turned back to watch the valley flooding. Despite the proximity to the desert here, the mountains of Daein were full of hidden rivers and pools. When the allied armies of Tellius had first joined at Fort Kain, Soren had assigned some of the beast tribe to build a dam and a canal, to redirect a massive amount of water across the path leading to the fort. Ranulf had known that they would have to use it eventually. He had hoped, though, that the fort would have held up a little better. It was Daein, after all. Until Micaiah's reign, this country had always been famous for its warmongering, and its defenses were probably the best in Tellius.

Ranulf sighed. Focus on the present, he told himself, and leapt down from his rocky vantage point. He jogged along the line, from the back where the injured traveled more slowly, to the front where the kings and generals convened. Tanith had arrived since Ranulf had last checked in with Skrimir. After the Judgment War and General Zelgius' death, Sanaki had appointed Tanith, once the deputy commander of the Holy Guard, as the new General of the Begnion Central Army. Ranulf smiled slightly. Fiercely loyal to the Empress and with a no-nonsense, no-exceptions attitude, Tanith had proved to be a very good and intimidating General.

"Is everything going smoothly?" she asked Ranulf, as he was the last to have checked in with everyone.

He nodded. "All seems to be in place. The path is underwater now. We're still several hours from the rendezvous, but we should be there by nightfall with time to spare."

Suddenly an abnormal sound reached him. He lifted his head, twitching his ears to better capture the sound.

"Attack! We're under attack!"

"An ambush!" Ranulf howled, and sprang away down the path, sprinting toward the fight as soon as his paws touched the ground.

…

Jill's dragon released the chunk of rock just as Jill herself threw another javelin. The spear struck a solider on a horse, and the rock crushed a couple more. Peridot wheeled back toward the fort, covered by the rain of spells Soren, Micaiah, Sanaki, Tormod, and Bastian cast on the enemy.

There was no way to hold them back, really. Just slow them down, which was what Jill, Haar, and their dragons were doing with the rocks. Inside the crumbling, narrow corridors of the fort — conveniently open to the elements since the Alliance team had knocked the roofs in last night — there was no escape from the chunks of stone. In addition to the spells, Shinon poured arrows into the mess; Tibarn and Naesala dove in and out of combat relentlessly. Jill and Haar continued to hurl javelins and small axes. Ike and Lucia each held a magical sword and attacked from the upper ledges. Sothe and Volke appeared to be competing to see how many concealed knives one man could possess and throw. Routinely the fort would shake as another section caved in or exploded. The very few injuries that the enemy was able to reply were quickly healed by Elincia.

For such a small force, they had done admirable damage to the enemy forces. But against an army, there was only one ending to this battle.

"It's time!" Soren yelled as his third Blizzard tome fell apart. "Let's go!"

Jill urged Peridot higher into the sky, well out of range of the enemy. She and Haar circled the Holy Guard as they rose up, carrying their passengers.

"Now!" Micaiah cried — and as one, the sages each cast a spell.

Fort Kain collapsed once and for all under the onslaught of Blizzard, Bolting, Purge, and two Meteors. Jill turned away from the cloud of stone dust and the cries of the soldiers trapped inside.

_I didn't want this, _she thought as if to them. _You didn't have to come here. You didn't have to die._

…

"Go, go, go!" Ranulf shouted over his shoulder, batting down a lance with his front paws. He, the trueblade Mia, and General Geoffrey fought shoulder to shoulder on the narrow, winding trail. They were the first line between the wounded and the ambushers. The sky was full of birds and flying knights diving into the fray. Ranulf had lost track of Skrimir, but still heard him roaring away somewhere.

A sword bit into his shoulder and he hissed, lashing out. Blood stained his fur, but before the wound could take too heavy a toll, he felt a warm touch on his flank. He glanced behind him to see a beorc healer — the pale one from the Greil Mercenaries, Rhys — with his staff glowing blue. The pain in the cat's shoulder eased and he sprang back into battle.

It seemed that they fought for days. Reyson told him later that it was about eighty minutes. The Ketaran attack had been well timed, but the Alliance fighters were not so dispirited as the enemy might have hoped, and they had not for a second let their guard down. Being already in battle positions, they had swiftly beaten off the attack — a few of the Ketaran survivors fled back into the woods, but most of the foreigners were dead.

Ranulf reverted back from his cat form. "Lethe," he called. She bounded over, unhurt. "Take a small team and hunt down the survivors," Ranulf ordered wearily. "We can't let them get back to the main army. It's best if they don't know the outcome of today."

Lethe nodded her understanding and whisked off. Ranulf sighed and glanced down at his bloodied clothes. He wrinkled his nose in distaste. Sometimes he cursed his acute sense of smell — like now, when he would be able to smell blood and death in his fur for days, no matter how many times he washed.

"Ike's team is returning." Ranulf glanced up as Tanith landed next to him. "We need to get going again to make up for this lost time. Help me gather the wounded… and the dead, will you?"

"Sure thing, General Tanith," Ranulf managed a smile. He'd learned a long time ago that it was important to keep up at least the appearance of a good nature on the battlefield. If nothing else, it kept a few spirits up. But mostly, it was because if he could try to fool others he could try to fool himself. Sometimes it was all that kept him going, but sometimes it was just too much.

…

…

_Author's Note: _

_A__ million and three thanks to Kiiroi Senko for a supply of battle strategies. You officially rock and if the good guys didn't already have an awesome strategist I'd name one after you. _


	11. Past and Future

Noah Markus couldn't help the small quirk of approval that flashed across his lips. He sighed in self-admonishment. It was bad news for the Ketaran army — but he couldn't help thinking privately that it had been a good plan.

He sighed again. Yes, a good plan, _unlike _the one to ambush the retreating party on the mountain trail. Who ambushed a whole army? Markus shook his head in disgust. Not one of the Ketaran soldiers had survived, and what had Lord Amar expected?

"Here you go, Cap." A steaming cup was placed next to his elbow.

Markus glanced up in surprise. "Oh… thank you, Dominique." She was an archer in the Onyx Guard with a peculiar habit of mothering her teammates. "Wait," he called as she made to leave his tent. "How's Porter?" he asked anxiously. He hadn't yet been able to visit his second-in-command in the infirmary tent.

Dominique shook her head sadly. "I'm afraid I don't know, Cap. All I can say is he's still alive."

Markus nodded, dismissing the archer. He stared at the mess of papers and reports spread across the coarse camp rug he sat on, warming his cold fingers on the mug of tea. After a moment he closed his eyes, not wanting to see the figures of casualties any longer.

The military was nearly his whole life, and he had agreed to that. He had no problem with risking his life for Ketar. Despite everything, Markus held a fierce patriotism in his heart, and as a Captain of an elite Guard he was well enough mired in the political landscape of his country to understand that war was necessary.

Ketar was uneasy. It had happened before, and would likely happen again. Civil unrest had recently stirred against the last Overlord. That man had been weak, vague, and selfish — the country had essentially been run by the Generals, but without the proper support of the Overlord, the House of the People had made life increasingly difficult. The Army had simply not been able to do its job, and the people of Ketar had chosen protest over honest work. Then, three years ago, a challenger had overthrown the Overlord. It was not a bloodline position — but not just anyone could take it. Many of Markus' comrades in the army had tried over the five miserable years — all of them had failed, and Markus had never seen them again. But finally, finally, a new Overlord had come to power. Power under the Overlord was traditionally split between the Army and the House; but by that time the Overlord had had enough with the antics of the House, and disbanded them.

The Overlord of Ketar meant business.

After years of neglect and rebellion, the land was in a sad state. It would be many long years before Ketar was able to support its people again — too many years to wait in the meantime. There was not enough left to be taken from their homeland without destroying it. Ketar had a history of this kind of war: taking over a land and expanding the empire for goods and resources. Markus himself had very few qualms about it. The people of Tellius would have been allowed to continue living there. Their kings would have been granted lordship under the Overlord, and continued to govern their lands. They would have paid a simple tithe. But now, another land would be torn by war before these proud people gave up. There would be less to tithe and less to live on while Tellius rebuilt.

Captain Markus opened his eyes and sighed. Reluctantly, he stood up and collected a few of the thrice-damned papers. He needed to talk to Lord Amar before pride and foolishness cost more soldiers their lives.

…

"This fort at Serpent Pass is our best option," Micaiah murmured, pointing it out on the map.

Soren scanned the inky mountains. "Are there other places where the army could get through the mountain range?"

"Just a few." The silver-haired priestess tapped them with one finger. "There was a main road, here, which we build after the Judgment War to get to Hatari… but since the invasion, we've brought down half a mountain on it. It was the most accessible pass. Now there are just those four small ones. The other three are well guarded, and Serpent is the closest one."

"Very well. Then we fall back there for now." Soren tapped his fingers absently on the tabletop. "If we could hold the invasion in these mountains until winter, the snows would choke the passes." He glanced at Micaiah. "Would your foresight give us enough warning to get out before we, too, became trapped?"

"It always has in the past," Micaiah replied.

Soren seemed to consider it, then shook his head. "No, never mind. We'll have to be very careful as it gets closer to winter."

"The snows actually start around mid-autumn at this height," Jill spoke up.

"Alright, autumn then," Soren corrected, doing little to hide his growing tetchiness. "If the Queen's foresight does kick in, wonderful. In the eight weeks between now and then, we will have to hold this fort much, much more effectively than the last."

"The pass is narrow and steep," Sothe murmured. "Thick woodland and the occasional sheer cliff on either side. Flooding it like the last one isn't likely to work as well, but there should be plenty of opportunities to set traps and ambushes."

"That's right," Ike spoke for the first time in a while. For the last half hour or so, he'd paced the tent while the others rattled off battle reports. Now he rejoined the table, glancing at the Queen's shadow. "I'd forgotten you guys were the Dawn Brigade. Guerilla warfare was what you did, back in the day…"

Sothe rolled his eyes. "Yes, back in those good old days of occupation after the Mad King's War. My point is, we have a huge variety of troops available, even before the dragons get here. We should use them."

"I sense that the Shipless Pirates might get to see some action," Tibarn chuckled.

"Indeed," Soren murmured, gazing at the map with slightly narrowed eyes. Ike glanced at his old friend with concealed worry. He could almost smell the smoke coming off the wheels in Soren's little tactician brain. He noticed that the sage was leaning on the table with his right hand, but not his left.

"I think meeting adjourned for tonight," Ike announced. "We're all tired, and we've got a long way still to go the next few days." He caught Soren's arm as people began to leave the command tent. "And you," he said under his breath, "are going to see a healer, whether you like it or not."


	12. Reporting

"Have Ulki and Janaff returned yet?" Soren asked abruptly.

Tibarn cast the sage a surprised look. "No, not yet. You asked for an in-depth report on a foreign army, did you think they'd be back by lunch?"

Soren scowled. "I don't appreciate the flippancy, Bird King. Yes, I expected your scouts to be back sooner than this. They're _supposed _to be the best in Tellius."

"They are," Tibarn replied, still calm, fixing the strategist with his dark amber gaze. Soren glared back for a moment before he stalked away, muttering under his breath. Tibarn thought he caught the word "incompetent" more than once, but he let it go. The kid was under a lot of pressure. Besides, that one always seemed to have his robes in a twist. It wasn't like this was new.

Ike sighed, though. "Sorry about that," he muttered.

Tibarn shrugged. "I can deal with it. Man, though, you'd think that they've been gone a month. We haven't even reached the fort at Serpent Pass yet."

"I know." Ike's customary frown was firmly in place today. "Which isn't ideal, of course. But if we have trouble getting up here, then so will they."

"Except they won't be lugging wounded," Tibarn felt obliged to point out in his usual sophisticated way.

"True. But didn't one of your men just report that the path is still flooded?"

"Yes, it is."

"And the dragons are in Daein, on their way to the fort. So that's good news." He sighed and ran his hand through his short blue hair.

"General Ike?"

Tibarn was pretty sure he was the only one who heard the small growl Ike let out at the sound of that title. "Yes, Empress Sanaki?" the tall beorc replied calmly enough.

The Empress of Begnion — still a midget, so she rode a borrowed pegasus instead of trying to keep up on her short legs (not that there was a creature in Tellius brave or stupid enough to say that to her face) — brought her steed to ground to pace alongside Ike and Tibarn. "We received a message from Lehran," she announced. "The rest of the Begnion Central Army is camped in Daein, near the foot of the mountains." She eyed the surrounding peaks and mist. "We can call reinforcements from them as needed, but I'm sure you agree that it's not feasible to call the entire Central Army up into the mountains. It's simply too big."

Ike nodded. "Yeah, I know. They're fine where they are for now. We can join up with them when the snow falls or we lose this fort, whichever comes first."

Sanaki raised her eyebrows. "Always the optimist."

"As a _General_, I don't think I'm supposed to be optimistic, Empress."

The girl almost smiled. "Perhaps that's true. Still, I don't understand why you're always so surly about leading the army."

Tibarn swallowed a laugh at the expression on Ike's face as he looked carefully away from Sanaki. Ike was biting his tongue in a big way.

They were both saved, however, by the beat of tired wings above them. "King Tibarn!" Janaff's voice called. "We're back!"

"I can see that," the hawk king replied. "All right. Come on, then: we'd better go see the snarky little strategist."

* * *

><p><em>Author's note: Sorry for how short that ended up being, and very sorry for no update yesterday. Homework being the bane of creativity, I have not had as much time or inclination as one would hope. But, I promise not to abandon the story, even if I can't update as often as I'd like. Thank you guys so much for the reviews and for sticking with this story. If there's anything that you guys would like to see — places, people, cool ideas — let me know and I'll try to work them in. This is for fun, after all, and every story needs a little filler. Hopefully the next chapter I post will be longer and more interesting.<em>


	13. The Defenses Hold

"Soren! Scouts spotted a group of soldiers sneaking up through the forest to the west!"

"Send Ranulf after them."

"Soren! They've got ladders!"

"Knock them back and guard the gaps."

"Soren! They've set up a ballista!"

"I'll take care of it."

"Soren, how're you doing?"

The young tactician rolled his eyes. _Just fucking peachy. _"I'm fine, Ike," he said aloud as he fired a Blizzard spell at the one ballista the Ketarans had managed to set up. The first shot hit a translucent shield in the air, but Soren cast the spell again before the enemy mages could fix it. Soren watched the contraption explode with a certain amount of very well-hidden satisfaction. The truth was, Soren did not have a mild disposition, as much as he might pretend. Another truth was, he was _so not in the mood _for another thrice-damned, idiotic war.

And one more truth, while he was on a roll, was that he didn't have time at the moment to be compiling a list. An arrow whistled toward him, and he ducked hurriedly. Cursing under his breath, he sent a spell back toward the offending archer, and recognized the sandy-haired soldier from the last battle. Soren narrowed his eyes. It was indeed a seething mass of chaos out here, but Soren had a knack for remembering faces that could be trouble. Especially when 'trouble' had previously entailed an arrow in his own shoulder.

The sandy-haired captain aimed and fired again, but not at Soren this time. Just as the sage was about to cast a spell at the man, an indignant voice caught his attention. "Who the hell does that—" Soren smirked to himself at the word Shinon used — "think he's shooting at?" Soren stepped back, raising one eyebrow as Shinon pulled back an arrow at the same time as the enemy captain. The sandy-haired man shot first, but the mercenary marksman's aim was perfect: the two arrows ricocheted off each other and spun down among the swarming enemies below the wall.

"Ha," Shinon muttered, then renews his litany of profanity as he continued firing arrows, hitting every single thing he aimed at. Soren shook his head slightly, and mid-way through the shake realized that Ike was moving steadily farther away. The tactician scowled again and dashed after the Commander.

"Will they breach the first gate?" Ike shouted as soon as he saw Soren.

The Branded peered cautiously down over the wall. "I doubt it," he replied as a Daein soldier next to him tipped a cauldron of something boiling and unpleasant down onto the hopefuls with the battering ram. Soren noticed a squad of mages approaching to knock in the gate with magic, and signaled to Jill's wyvern rider team. With her bright green animal in the lead, the soldiers swooped down and decimated the threat before winging back to safety. They had sustained minimal damage — either the enemy mages had yet to figure out that lightning magic was most effective against dragons, or they simply didn't have it at their disposal.

The enemy's magic was intriguing, Soren had to admit, in an infuriating kind of way. It was so different from the anima and light-based tomes that the Tellian mages used, yet apparently it was still read from spellbooks. Soren wondered if it would ever be possible to examine one of those books, and made a mental note to have someone comb the debris for an intact model after the Ketarans retreated.

That, of course, was contingent on the damned foreigners retreating in the first place. Soren flung a spell to bat away an arrow, scanning the troops below for the flickers of color he had seen in battles before. The flickers had plagued him until he realized what they were: communication. The enemy used their horns for only the simplest commands, attack and retreat. The real strategies were directed from behind the lines, by using sequences of colored flags. Once Soren had realized their significance, his tactician's mind had been working nonstop in a little corner during every battle, trying to discern what exactly the patterns meant. If he could read the signals and anticipate the enemy's exact movements on the battlefield… well, what would be impressive, even for Soren. So even while he fought for his life, his impeccable memory catalogued every flicker of color below.

Now, though, Soren's patience with the clever system had run out for the day. A breakdown of communication was in order. The tactician plunged through the fray atop the walls of the fort, eyes searching for the archers. He spotted the blond captain manning a mounted ballista alongside his men, and caught his attention.

Leonardo followed Soren's arm when the tactician pointed out the battle station where the flags were being hoisted. His eyes narrowed briefly before he nodded in understanding. Soren darted away, hearing Leonardo begin to shout the new orders behind him.

Last stop was a group of sages on a higher rampart. They were all from the last wars, all equipped with long-range tomes, led by the Queen of Daein. Micaiah's eyes widened when she saw Soren join them.

"There's the target," the strategist said without preamble. "If we take it out completely, we should cripple the army enough to make them retreat for today. As one. On your call, Micaiah."

The sages readied their tomes again. At the silver-haired Queen's order, Soren cast his Blizzard spell along with Sanaki, Tormod, Micaiah — there were others, too. A dozen destructive spells slammed down upon the signal stand along with rocks and the enormous arrows from the catapults and ballistae. The shimmering shield in the air buckled.

"Again!" Micaiah cried, even as Leonardo should be saying the same to his men on the wall below.

Twice more the combination of magic and steel and stone crashed into that strange and annoying barrier in the air — then it crumpled, and in that unguarded instant the battle station was obliterated.

Soren whisked away from the group of sages and located Ike again. The Commander glanced down as Soren returned to his side.

"I think," he grunted, swinging his sword and sending a beam of destructive energy down toward the enemy, "I can safely say that you had something to do with the massive explosion that just took place."

Soren allowed himself a faint smile. "I merely instigated it."

Ike snorted. "You know, if you weren't on my side, you might really scare me, Soren."

"Well then," the tactician responded, casting one of his trademark wind spells over the wall, "you can be glad that I am on your side."

Ike's reply was cut off by a single loud blast of a horn. The Commander lowered his sword. "They're retreating."

Soren saw no reason to verify the obvious. The Ketarans were streaming away from the fort en masse. But the small strategist stayed where he was, above the gate, watching them leave. Ike remained with him, as did every officer, even while their soldiers fidgeted or slipped away to find food and drink. Soren stayed where he was because, even without the signal flags, he didn't trust that the Ketarans were gone until he saw it with his own eyes.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note:<em>

_Thank you guys for your patience. Sorry to all of you, to the people who have read this story for a while and to those of you who just started following it — sorry it took me so long to get anything new up there. I started writing chapter 13 a couple of times, but it just sat there and stared at me with this "really?" look… so then I decided to jump straight into the middle of fighting a battle and pestering Soren. Honestly, under all that calm and cool logic, I think that there's a raging desire to slam a tome over somebody's head every once in a while. I had some fun after all, writing from his point of view — feel free to let me know if you think I pulled it off okay or not._

_Thanks again for your patience, guys, I think we'll have to expect this every-few-days thing for a while, but I'll update whenever I write something worthwhile. Fingers crossed I'll come up with something interesting during class tomorrow :)_


	14. Risks

Micaiah left the strategy room and plunged into the chaos of the infirmary. She wanted time before she considered Soren's idea, and a little bit of chaos still cleared her head. Whether that was because of having Yune in her body years ago, or just lingering nightmares of turning into a statue... she had never thought hard about it. Right now, she could help the injured soldiers, so the hospital was her place.

Time slipped by. Micaiah found herself working next to familiar faces: she caught glimpses of Elincia's gentle smile, Mist's cheer even in this place, Rhys looking pale in the soft blue glow of his staff. The galdrar of the three heron siblings filled the room, somehow dimming the screams of the wounded without impeding the healers' communication. Micaiah fell into the rhythm of the room, and hardly noticed the time passing.

At last, though, a hand on her arm broke her from her reverie. "Come on, Micaiah," Sothe urged quietly. "There's a new shift taking over. You should get some rest."

She nodded and handed her staff over to a new healer. Sothe let her lean on his shoulder as they navigated the halls; she was suddenly so tired, the weariness she had managed to offset suddenly crashing down on her. She must have actually dozed off at some point, because she opened her eyes with a jolt when Sothe set her down on her bed. She rubbed her eyes blearily — then as he moved away, she caught the sleeve of his coat.

"Sit," she commanded, stifling a yawn.

Sothe raised an eyebrow at her. "You need to—"

"Rest, yes, I've heard. I will, after you're healed."

"Micaiah, I'm fine."

Micaiah stood up. She wasn't anywhere near eye level to him — the top of her head came about to his jaw — but she knew that he would give in to her, anyway. "Nothing short of perfect is fine anymore, Sothe," she insisted. "Not when you mightn't have time to heal properly before you have to fight again. If you die because of a small injury—"

He sighed, cutting her off before she really warmed to her tirade. Secretly she also sighed with relief. She didn't feel up to it, just now. "All right, Micaiah," Sothe murmured. "On the condition that you don't use Sacrifice."

"I won't," she promised, reaching for one of her staves. "Look, a mend staff right here. See how easy that was?"

Sothe didn't roll his eyes, but it was a near thing. He slipped his coat off, his features stone-like. But even he couldn't control his complexion, and Micaiah made him sit down when she saw the color leeching from his face. He sat very still as Micaiah lifted his shirt away from an ugly red gash across his ribs. "Are you ever going to get proper armor?" she murmured, concentrating mostly on her staff.

"No," Sothe snorted quietly. "If I wore armor like Nolan's, I'd be dead a thousand times over."

"How so?"

"It's a burden, especially to a knife-fighter. If I wore armor, I'd definitely get hit."

"You _have _been hit," Micaiah pointed out sternly. She pulled his shirt back down and set her staff aside. "I just don't want you to get hurt, Sothe."

He smiled at her. "Nobody's going to go through this without getting hurt." He brought his hand up and brushed her hair away from her face. "Except you, if I can help it."

Micaiah closed her eyes and leaned her face into his hand. "I'm worried," she admitted for the first time.

"Because of Soren's plan?"

She nodded. "Has it really come to that? Already?"

Sothe pulled her into his arms. "Micaiah… you know… we won't last until winter. Not even here. The defenses on this side of the country just weren't enough. We've become used to peace in Daein — busy reconstructing. We just weren't ready for this."

"It's so dangerous, though," she whispered.

"Have you had any visions? Heard anything from Yune?"

"… Not in a while, no."

"No news is good news, Micaiah."

"Unless—"

"Your abilities aren't going anywhere," Sothe said firmly. "I thought we'd been over this."

Finally, Micaiah's tense frame relaxed just a tiny bit. "We have." She smiled slightly, though it didn't reach her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Don't." He kissed her forehead. "Why don't you get some rest. You'll feel better."

"Stay," she whispered.

Sothe tucked her hair behind her ear. Deftly he removed her jewelry and her cape, and set them aside. "I will," he promised. "I'm not going anywhere."

Micaiah sighed and stretched out on the bed, letting her eyes drift close. "Sothe?"

"Hm?"

"What do you think of Soren's idea? Truly."

She felt his hand touch her face gently. "I think it's better than sitting here waiting," he replied honestly.

Micaiah opened one eye and stared at him accusingly. "You're excited for this."

He offered her a tiny smile. "I won't deny that. It's not like I'm looking forward to it, Micaiah — but it will be better than this. Besides, I think we need to do something to strike back." He brushed her silver hair off her forehead. "What do you think?"

She sighed wearily. "I think… it may be the best chance. But that doesn't necessarily mean I like it."

"No one likes it," Sothe sighed. "Nobody wanted this war."

…

Someone did, though. The Ketaran army war gearing up again, heading out to challenge the new defenses. Their position was untenable, and they knew it — there were too many directions here in the mountains for their enemies to strike from. Especially those flying units, Captain Markus thought, scanning the mist-shrouded peaks. And those birds. They could be upon the camp and gone again within minutes. Constant vigilance was required.

Markus kept up that vigilance, even when he wasn't on watch duty. He kept his mind on the battles to come, occasionally analyzing the few they had already fought, forming plans and thinking through contingencies. It was easier than thinking about the cool metal in his hand.

Every soldier in the Ketaran army carried an identification tag on his uniform. Markus, however, held these two in his hand. He had just threaded one onto a chain he normally wore around his neck, under his uniform and armor. It clinked softly against the older tag, glinting in the firelight.

_Porter, Jason  
><em>_Onyx Guard, First Lieutenant_

Rachel had handed it to Markus this morning, before he had even asked for it. Her own tag had shone against her dark shirt, brand-new as of that same morning, when she had been promoted to fill the vacant spot of First Lieutenant. But she had looked anything but happy about her promotion; she had only said, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be stupid," he'd replied gruffly. "Wasn't your fault."

_It was mine._

Markus turned the tags over in his hand. "You had to follow me," he murmured bleakly, "didn't you?"

He tucked the tags away and stood briskly, adjusting his sword. He stalked around the encampment again, scanning the surroundings even though it wasn't his watch. He needed to move; he didn't need to sit and stare at those damned tags for hours. He already had the other one memorized, every last detail after how many hours turning it over and over in his fingers.

_Markus, Jonathan  
><em>_Fifth Legion_

…

_Author's note:_

_Very sorry for the lack of updates, I've been very busy, and have also unfortunately discovered the Harry Potter fanfics, which are a huge time-sucker because there are so many on my favorite understated characters and I just lose track of time… sigh. Bad. Anyway. The next chapters will be moving away from the sitting-around-waiting-for-the-next-assault thing, because if I'm getting bored with that, so are the characters. So I figured I could try out some of the stuff more like what we see in the games, with just our core group doing cool dangerous stunts. What could possibly go wrong?  
><em>_Thanks again to everybody reading. Hey, if you've got any sneaky Soren-like plans, I'd love to hear about them._


	15. All We Can Do

"Are we ready to go?" Ike asked in a low voice.

"We should be," Soren murmured. Just then the bushes behind them rustled, and Ranulf slid to a halt beside them.

"All set," he reported, his tail twitching with excitement. "They should be headed off in the next ten seconds or so…"

Leonardo let out a quiet breath and flexed his fingers around his bow. He already had an arrow on the string, of course — it had been there for half an hour, ever since the group had settled into this position to wait. Finally, the enemy's supply train was coming into sight, and it was time.

The young marksman glanced around at his comrades. Micaiah was there, with Sothe by her side — really, that didn't even need mentioning. Tormod stood with them as well, his fire-colored cloak dimmed in the shadows under the trees. Nolan, Ilyana, and Zihark were on the other side of the rough path with the other group; Jill was up in the air, shrouded in the low-hanging mist with the birds and Haar, ready to swoop down on the supply train. And Edward was next to Leonardo, his fingers tapping nervously on the hilt of his sword. That was it for the old Dawn Brigade and Liberation Army — the first people Leonardo had ever fought with.

Edward nudged his arm. "Here they come," he muttered.

Leonardo took a deep breath and stepped up beside Tormod. He drew back his bowstring and nodded to the sage. Tormod carefully touched the end of the arrow and muttered a spell, setting the arrow alight. Leonardo held back a wince as the flames licked at his fingers — then he released the burning arrow, knowing instinctively that the shot was good. He heard, because he was listening for it, two simultaneous twangs of other bowstrings from across the path.

Three tiny comets streaked through the sky, almost lost against the bright sky. Then they fell, and made their presence known.

"Fire!"

"The wagons are on fire!"

"We're under—"

The shriek of a hawk drowned the shouting as a massive green bird tore through the mist, raking his talons forward. A midnight-black raven, two brown hawks, two white pegasi, and two bright dragons followed the Bird King, striking at points along the caravan and causing immediate havoc.

"Go!" Ike called, and the warriors in the bushes sprang out into the action. Leonardo remained where he was, on the edge of the forest, sending five more flaming arrows onto the canvas-covered wagons. Then Tormod ran off into the fight, and Leonardo slung his bow over his shoulders. Panting, he scrambled up a tree he had selected earlier, climbing high enough into the branches to get a full view of the battle below. He glanced down once at the ground, seeing Edward in place at the base of his tree, before he reached for a new arrow and began firing down at the Ketaran soldiers.

Killing was something that Leonardo had mixed reactions to. Right now, in the middle of a battle, fighting for his friends and his country, his hands were steady, his breathing even, his aim flawless. Every Ketaran he targeted went down after one or two shots, occasionally three — but they all went down and never moved again. For now, Leonardo didn't care. As soon as one soldier fell, he was searching for another target. He searched for anyone who could do the Alliance fighters damage — a mage coming up on Nolan's blind side, a swordsman running toward Micaiah, an archer taking aim at Elincia. A few times he shot down enemies heading toward Edward, but the brown-haired trueblade seemed to be holding his own just fine.

Every arrow he fired would come back to haunt him. But now he just kept going, kept drawing and firing and killing, because this was what he could do for his country. This was all he could do, so he just did it as well as he could.

…

The Queen of Crimea dove again, her sword flashed again, a soldier fell again. Amiti's blade and Locan's white wings were smeared with red blood. The Queen of Crimea flattened herself against her pegasus' neck as an arrow whizzed over her head; she turned toward the offending archer, and cut him down with two swift strikes. She swooped over the battlefield, through fire and ashes and steel, wreaking havoc from the sky. The invaders fell or fled before her, the Queen of Crimea, wielding the sacred blade of her House. She was one in a long line of defenders of her beloved country. She would not be the first to succeed — and she had sworn to herself that she would not be the last to fail.

At last the caravan lay in ruin. The pegasus' hooves touched down to the ground, his sides heaving with the effort expended in the last hours. His rider gasped for breath as well — she looked down at the bloody sword in her hand, at the smoldering fires and bodies laying like puppets with their strings cut, and Elincia put her face in her hands and cried.

* * *

><p><em>Author's note: This chapter, especially Elincia's short part, was written to Hands Held High, by Linkin Park. The lyrics themselves are not all strictly applicable to Tellius itself, but the feeling of it is. Also, it put me in kind of a restless and depressed mood, so I decided to add Elincia's bit. She hates the fighting but she can't avoid it, for the sake of her country.<em>

_Wow, didn't really mean to go all depressing there — but honestly, it is a war story. People deal with it in different ways. So maybe if I keep going with this depressing and kind of war-like playlist that I've put together, I'll update more often. Thanks to all you guys who reviewed, especially NiRvAnAaDvAnCiNg95, and everybody who still reads._


	16. Action and Reaction

"Thank you for coming," Captain Markus began. He paced as he addressed the full Onyx Guard. "To cut straight to the chase, we've been given a new assignment. We're going back to Territory One, to guard the next caravan that comes in here."

Most of the Guard groaned. "That's crap," argued Steph, a master swordsman. "Why us?" His sentiment was echoed around the tent.

Markus stopped his pacing and raised a hand for silence. "This is not some punishment detail. This is serious. There is a force somewhere behind our line — we don't know where they are, their numbers, anything about them. They ambushed the last caravan: unprepared, unguarded. There were no Ketaran survivors and no Tellian bodies when our scouts got there." He glared at the Onyx Guard, as if he could force the seriousness of the sitiuation into their head. "So yes, we are going back and escorting supplied. We're a _Guard_. If you don't like it, I'll arrange for your reassignment; most likely your discharge, because I've got better things to do than deal with a bunch of soldiers acting like children."

The team sat in silence. A few of the caught Markus' eyes, then looked away.

"Everyone willing to accept the new orders," Markus said icily, "get geared up — we leave at high noon. If you're done, stay here, because I don't want to see you again." He turned on his heel and stalked out of the tent.

His own quarters were sparse, devoid of any personal items, completely militaristic. Markus had very little to pack, and within moments he was reduced to pacing again.

"Captain Markus, a message for you."

Markus sighed silently. "Come in."

First Lieutenant Rachel Fairchild ducked inside. Markus faced away from her, studying his luggage as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

"That was a little harsh." Her voice was low and even, with a hint of her mountain-air accent clinging to her vowels.

Markus closed his eyes briefly. "I believe it was necessary."

"With all due respect, Captain, I disagree."

He turned and scowled at Rachel. "Shouldn't you be packing?" he asked pointedly.

"No," Rachel answered calmly. "I'm already finished, and I wanted to talk to you."

"So talk."

"You have to snap out of it," Rachel declared, her voice suddenly like steel, forcing Markus to remember who he had appointed her a lieutenant in the first place. "I won't pretend to know what your problem is, but you cannot fight angry. That invites death and you know it."

Markus pinched the bridge of his nose. He let out a long breath.

Then he turned to face her. "You're right."

A small smile lurked in the corner of her mouth. "Thank you." She became solemn again, tucking a bit of loose hair behind her ear. "Captain, I know I can't replace Porter," she said quietly, "but I swear I can try."

Markus raised his eyebrows slightly. "But now you're wrong again, Rachel," he replied. When she frowned, he found himself smiling just a little. "You're as good as Porter was," he told her firmly. "Don't doubt that. I didn't make you a Lieutenant because you could never replace Porter. I chose you both, keeping in mind that you'd take my place one day."

Rachel's shoulders tensed slightly. "Not any time soon, I hope."

Markus shrugged. "I hope not." But no one could ever know.

* * *

><p><em>Author's note: oh my gods, I'm so sorry for how long it's been. I really wanted to put something good up, since it has been forever and a day, but this was the best I could come up with. I'm very sorry, I've been attacked with finals and feral plotbunnies and the vengeful characters of my actual novel, demanding to have my attention. I'm very sorry that I've fallen so far behind on this. I'll try to be better, and I AM going to finish it. It will not go quietly into the void, it may just be a sporadic thing. Thank you so much to people who have stuck with this.<em>


	17. Shadows

Branches whipped past, tearing at her hair and clothes. She stumbled over a hidden hole — his hands caught her hand urged her on.

"Go!" Sothe hissed. She heard the whisper-slice of steel through air, and a voice behind them cried out. Micaiah didn't turn to look, only kept going. While graceful, her footsteps were nowhere near as silent and sure as his; though she kept a hand clutching her hood over her bright silver hair, she knew that their pursuers could glimpse her through the shadows of the trees. It was only because of her deadly shadow that Micaiah had lasted this long.

His hand seized her wrist — somehow in front of her again — and pulled her to his side. He pulled her down and close, suddenly becoming still as stone. Her hooded face pressed into his shoulder, muffling her breathing. She wanted to see what was happening, but didn't dare move a muscle — Sothe had drilled that lesson into her a million times, so many years ago, to stay absolutely still even if you thought you'd been seen. People saw movement when they didn't see anything else.

"Spread out," a low voice called. "Rachel, Thomas, split the lights again. Everyone, stay in sight of your partner."

Micaiah's breathing had evened. She fingered her light tome beneath her cloak. They had a chance to slip away, she realized suddenly. She held tightly to the flash of foresight, and moved her head an infinitesimal

amount to place her lips next to Sothe's ear.

"Two minutes," she breathed, "directly behind me — quickly."

His fingers tightened briefly on her shoulder as a sign of acknowledgement. Micaiah closed her eyes, counting down in her mind to the moment she had seen. The seconds passed as heartbeats: her own, still racing, and Sothe's, much calmer. It was a shame, really, how calm he could be. She appreciated it at moments like this one, of course, but sometimes she got the feeling that Sothe felt out of place in a peaceful life. All of the people she cared about most, she had been through so much with — they'd seen so much in their young lives, maybe too much.

"Let's go," Sothe whispered, pulling Micaiah silently to her feet. She gripped his hand in one her hers, with her tome in the other; his free hand held a knife with a matte black blade, invisible in the dark, like him — pale skin covered by his dark coat and the dark hair falling across his face; moving too quickly and silently to pin down. Micaiah followed her shadow, this time, as they slipped away from their pursuers, like old times…

A sudden light blinded her, and her heart stopped. _Too late, _she thought despairingly, _or too early — _either way, they hadn't hit the perfect window of escape. They were caught.

Sothe moved. In the seconds it took for Micaiah to flick through her tome to damp the light, he had thrown one knife and dived forward, tackling one of the two soldiers. Sothe's arm wrapped around the man's throat, cutting off air and noise. The soldier slammed his elbow back into Sothe's abdomen, causing him to grunt in pain but only tighten his hold. Micaiah checked the other body; just as she retrieved Sothe's knife, the struggle ceased. Sothe pushed the second body off and rolled back to his feet.

"Are you alright?" Micaiah whispered, handing him his knife.

"I'm fine," Sothe assured her, accepting the blade. "Come on — we can't stop. We're not far now."

"Wait," Micaiah whispered, darting back to the bodies. She bit her lip, silently forming apologies for this lack of respect, and searched hurriedly through the soldiers' equipment. "Here." She pulled a spellbook free and tucked it one of the deep pockets of her cloak. Sothe snatched her hand and pulled her forward again, running as quietly as possible through the trees. Micaiah held tightly to her light tome, and even more tightly to Sothe's hand, suddenly afraid that she would lose him in the darkness of this forest. They were close now — close enough to worry that they might lead one of the enemy to their encampment — when for the second time, they were brought to an abrupt, unwelcome halt.

"That's far enough."

Micaiah grabbed Sothe's arm and yanked him to a stop before they ran headlong into a wall of pale, watery light that had just flashed into being in front of them. Sothe whirled around, placing Micaiah behind him. Two more Ketaran soldiers materialized: a tall woman with a bow directed at them, and a muscular, armored axe-man.

"Let's get this over with," the warrior growled, striding forward.

"Captain's orders are to call for backup," the archer woman said sharply, the tip of her arrow switching between Micaiah and Sothe.

"We did. They're coming, but I'm tired of running around these damned woods." His axe swung purposefully with a deadly hum. "Don't tell me we can't handle two kids, Dom, look at them."

Micaiah touched Sothe's back with one hand, holding her tome open in the other. The words she whispered were familiar to both of them, and she felt Sothe's muscles tense in readiness.

"I am looking at them, and I'm seeing a very sharp knife there, so I think—"

Micaiah seized full advantage of their lack of cooperation. She lifted her hand, full of blazing light. The archer cried out, her shot going wide, and the axe-man let out a roar and charged. Sothe moved forward to meet him with liquid, shadowy grace, knives flashing in the light. Micaiah ran forward to get inside the archer's range, already reading another spell. The light blasted from her hand, throwing the archer backwards, bow flung from her grasp. Micaiah yanked her small knife free and cut through the bowstring — most soldiers carried extras, but she wasn't strong enough to break the weapon itself and a cut string would at least slow the archer down if she regained consciousness before Micaiah and Sothe escaped. The light priestess whirled back around, stepping carefully closer to the other fight. She wanted to help Sothe, not distract him.

And he might need the help. As skilled as he was, going up against an axe-man with knives was never the best things. And this fighter was as skilled as any Micaiah had seen — and as strong. Sothe had managed to score several hits, darting inside the deadly sweep of the axe blade, but none of the wounds would kill the Ketaran any time soon.

As she assessed the situation, the Ketaran let out an oath as Sothe leapt out of the way of another strike. Micaiah flung a light spell at the man, but he dodged aside — toward Micaiah, and swung his axe at her. She jumped back, but stumbled and fell as her foot caught on something on the forest floor. She tumbled to the ground — possibly a life-saving mistake, because the axe blade whistled just over her head. Then a flicker of shadow reappeared as Sothe tackled the axeman away from Micaiah. She scrabbled for her tome, finding it under a bush just as a heavy thud and crash resounded. Micaiah froze, waiting to hear Sothe's voice or feel his hand on her shoulder — but nothing. She scrambled to her feet, words of a spell racing past her lips, and just as the Ketaran leapt out of the shadows at her, she flung the light magic at him. The magic caught him full in the chest and finished what knives had started: the axeman crumpled to the ground, unconscious or even dead.

For once Micaiah didn't care. "Sothe!" she cried, lifting a handful of light. "Sothe, where — ah!"

Blazing pain ripped through her shoulder, choking off her calls with a cry of pain. She stumbled back, dropping the light spell. But for the second time that night, the potentially disastrous turn saved her life. As Micaiah staggered, clutching her arm, an arrow whizzed past her ear. She stumbled back again, biting down her squeaks of pain. Without the light, the archer would have more trouble—

Another hiss of arrowflight, and then the impact took Micaiah by surprise. Instinctively she doubled over, and then the pain hit: white-hot, shocking pain that erupted from her abdomen and flamed through her body. Her knees his the ground and she couldn't stop herself from crying out. Her breath sounded loud in her ears. She raised her eyes from the red stain spreading across her blue dress, looking up at the archer woman and the arrow she was drawing back. Point-blank range, Micaiah thought pointlessly. At least the pain would be over soon…

Her eyes felt so heavy. She let them drift closed, hoping that Sothe was alright. _Please, Yune, he has to be alright. And Daein… please keep them safe for me…_

* * *

><p><em>Author's note: Hiiii! Terribly sorry for the long wait, especially since I then go and leave you with that. Don't worry, the next chapter is already half-written, it should be up soon. So sorry for how long it's been, and a billion and seven thanks to everyone who has reviewed since it's been so long, and cheers to everyone who's read this.<em>


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